Something about it brought gooseflesh to the surface of her skin and she had the sensation of a finger being drawn down her spine. Before she knew what she was doing, she was up and running, passing the sleeping quarters and crossing the distance to Lady Brenner’s house in several long strides. She scampered to the ground, clambering on all fours and then pressing her back to the wall. She stayed like that for a long while, just trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart.

She could barely make out the edge of the ramshackle hut, and from this distance, if whatever was inside was still scratching or tapping, she couldn’t make out the sound. Her frazzled nerves were far from calm, but she stood up anyway, willing herself into action.

She stepped silently onto the small wooden porch directly in front of Lady Brenner’s house. Reached for the doorknob, which, to her relief, wasn’t locked, turning easily in her hand.

She pushed the door open without so much as a creak. Apparently Lady Brenner was an obsessive hinge oiler, a fact that didn’t really surprise Perfidy.

She stepped inside, the floorboard creaking fiercely.

She froze, half-expecting to hear the woman screaming her head off as she sprang from bed, magic stick in hand, unpinned hair flung about her face in curling tendrils resembling a nest of snakes. Instead, there was only silence as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. It wasn’t fully dark, however, the plethora of windows allowing some of the plentiful moonslight to stream into the single room structure. To the right was a small kitchen that included a hearth, a wooden countertop, and an array of plants, root vegetables, and herbs hanging upside down from hooks attached to the ceiling. A round table sat beside a chair, large enough to seat two diners without jostling elbows too much.

To the left was the biggest bed Perfidy had ever seen, at least double the width of her small bunk, which was already bigger than the lumpy sleeping pad she’d used back in Northpoint. A blanket covered the bed, formed into the topography of Lady Brenner’s unmoving form.

There was no sign of her white stick anywhere, though there was a wardrobe standing in the corner beside the bed. Other than that, there wasn’t really anywhere else to hide the stick, unless you counted beneath the covers or Lady Brenner’s pillow. Perfidy hoped it didn’t come to that.

She made her way cautiously across the room, praying with each step that the floor didn’t offer another creak. Her prayers were answered, as her journey to the wardrobe was made in silence, the only sounds that of her own stifled breaths and Lady Brenner’s deep exhalations.

She opened the wardrobe.